


Disillusionment

by jadztone



Series: Sherlock Nanowrimo [7]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-11-23 00:46:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11391873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jadztone/pseuds/jadztone
Summary: Sherlock has a new favorite book shop.  Next door to it is a pub.  Or is there?





	Disillusionment

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of a series of stories I wrote for Nanowrimo and posted on my tumbler page, sherlock-nanowrimo.tumblr.com. I was doing a story a day, generally leaving them open-ended if I wanted to add on to the story later in the month. The ones that I did add on to will be posted on AO3 as multiple chapters. They will all be posted as complete, with no expectation that I will ever revisit them. I haven't changed them from the way they were posted on tumblr, they have their issues, but I like to think of them as diamonds in the rough. The stories contain multiple crossovers with other fandoms, and multiple ships.

John went over to the bookcase and began to reach for the dictionary, when he realized it wasn’t there. Instead there were several smaller books that appeared to be about beekeeping.  He turned to the kitchen, where Sherlock was mixing a solution in a petri dish.  “I see you’ve been to that bookstore again.”

Sherlock smiled.  “Quinto’s bookshop.  Yes.  It is my favorite place ever since Molly recommended it to me.”

John nodded absently. “Well, try to restrain yourself a little, there’s only so much space in this flat.  I’m sure some of this stuff you could look up on the internet.”  

Sherlock raised one eyebrow. “You mean like definitions and how words are spelled?”

“How did you know I..? Never mind.”  

“Given that I put my new books in the spot where the dictionary used to be, it was quite obvious.”

“I said never mind!”

A few weeks later, John found himself in Charing Cross Road.  He was looking for a birthday present for his girlfriend and had tried a gift shop someone told him about.  It hadn’t had an impressive selection.  As he walked along, he remembered this was where Sherlock’s favorite bookshop was located.  He called Sherlock.  “Hi, I’m on Charing Cross Road and wanted to go to that bookshop.  What’s the name of it?”

“It’s called Quinto’s. It’s next to a record store, can’t recall the name, and a pub called the Leaky Cauldron.”

“The Leaky Cauldron? That’s colorful.  Cheers.”  He hung up and walked along a couple of blocks until he finally found Quinto’s. He could see why Sherlock liked it, the selection was quite prolific.  With the help of the clerk, he found a very charming little book of poems that his girlfriend would like.  

After he made his purchase, he decided he would celebrate with a pint.  He stepped outside and looked up and down the block for the pub. He saw the record shop, and a dusty old storefront with questionable looking relics on display in the window. No pub.  He looked on the opposite side of the street, but no luck there. He called Sherlock again.  “So where exactly was this pub supposed to be in relation to the bookshop?”  

Sherlock was silent for a moment, then said, “I believe that the pub was between the record shop and Quinto’s.”  

“No, it’s not here. Just some old shop with antiques or something.”

“Oh, well maybe it closed down.”

“Did you ever go in?”

“Actually, I planned to a couple of times.  I was eager to start reading a book I just bought and figured I would over a pint. But both times I walked up to the pub, something else occurred to me that I needed to do and so I never actually went in.”

“Ah, well if everyone has that same reaction before going in, no wonder it went out of business.”

A month later, Sherlock came back from errands with a pile of books under his arm.   John looked up from his newspaper and sighed.  “More books? Really?”

Sherlock beamed.  “I’ll make them fit, I promise!  By the way, I think you may have been on the wrong block or something that time you went, because the Leaky Cauldron was still there.”

John put down his newspaper. “No, that’s not possible.  You said it was right next to Quinto’s.  I went to Quinto’s, I bought a book, I looked on both sides of the storefront for a pub and there wasn’t one.  The only thing in between the bookstore and record store was a musty old shop.”

Sherlock sat in his chair and steepled his fingers.  “Musty old shop.  That sounds familiar.  Why does that sound familiar?”  He closed his eyes.  “Describe what you saw.”

“Big window display showing antiques like old typewriters with an inch of dust on them.  I don’t remember the name on the shop.  It’s on the tip of my tongue.”

Sherlock opened his eyes. “I remember, now!  I remember seeing that shop the first time I went to Quinto’s.  It was so uninteresting that I dismissed it from my mind immediately.  The second time I went to Quinto’s, I was coming out and collided with someone coming out of the shop next door.  He was dressed very oddly.  It looked like he was wearing judges robes, except they were a lurid green. He gave me a slightly frightened glance and then hurried off.  It was a bit windy that day, and I heard the squeaking sound of rusted metal.  I looked up and saw the sign for the Leaky Cauldron.   It’s been there every other time I’ve gone.  I’d forgotten about the old shop until you just described it.  But how is that possible you’re seeing it?  If it went out of business and the pub took its place, you should be seeing the pub, not the shop.  

Sherlock jumped up and went for his coat.  “Let’s go. We both need to be there to figure out what’s going on.”

John grabbed his jacket and followed.  “Are you sure this isn’t just an excuse to visit Quinto’s again?”  Sherlock gave him a wink before heading down the stairs.

When they arrived at the block with Quinto’s, Sherlock pointed straight at the musty old shop.  “There, right there is the pub.  See, there’s the sign, you can’t miss it.”  He pointed up and John followed his gaze.  There was no sign.  

“Sorry mate, all I see is a shop selling typewriters that probably never worked even when they were new.”

“How can you not see the sign?!  It’s in the shape of a cauldron!”  John shook his head.  Sherlock paced in frustration.

John had his back to the door.  Suddenly it opened and a handful of teenagers burst through, their arms laden with packages. They were chatting briskly and, not paying attention, ran headlong into John. He stumbled forward, and Sherlock caught him before he went to the ground.  The teens covered their mouths in dismay, mumbled their apologies, and hurried on their way.  John stared after them.  “One of those kids has a cage with an owl in it.  Another had a cauldron full of books.  What?”  He chuckled in incredulity, turning to face the door where the kids had come through. He did a double take.   There was no longer a large display window.  The door to the shop said The Leaky Cauldron. John slowly looked up and saw a sign that was the outline of a cauldron, swaying slightly in the breeze.    He turned back to Sherlock, his expression one of astonishment.

Sherlock understood immediately.  “You see it now, too?”  John nodded. Sherlock laughed in delight.  “This is extraordinary!  I wonder how they do it.  Must be some sort of marketing gimmick to go along with the witchy theme. Let’s go inside and ask!”

They turned towards the door, but then John heard a voice behind him.  “Gentleman, before you go in, there’s something I want to tell you.” They turned and saw a woman standing there.  She had on a dress similar to judges robes, in a shade of canary yellow.  

Sherlock looked at her impatiently.  “Yes, yes, what is it you wanted to tell us?”

The woman pulled a slender rod from out of her sleeve, pointed it at them, and said, “Obliviate.”


End file.
